


Don't You Think It's Time To Get Used To Having Me Around (I Don't Mind)

by allmilhouse



Category: Bell Book and Candle (1958)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kissing, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27588377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: Sidney moves in with Nicky, ostensibly to work on the book, and they share a few memorable months
Relationships: Nicky Holroyd/Sidney Redlitch
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Swiped a few prompts from https://love-me-a-good-prompt.tumblr.com/post/620786906440024064/roommates-ideas-3 and then mangled them beyond all recognition. Despite my best efforts it's so soft and fluffy you could use it to successfully defend yourself in a pillow fight. Title from Having You Around by July Talk

It seemed like a good enough idea at the start. A reasonable way for them both to save money while working on the book, and an added incentive to keep writing. 

“Makes it easier to keep your mind on work, you know, when your research assistant is always in view,” Sidney explained, slightly out of breath as he entered the apartment, carrying a suitcase and a brown paper bag. “Trust me, I learned the hard way in Mexico.”

Nicky watched him from the edge of the doorway, unable to keep the slight frown off his face. “What-”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Sidney interrupts, reading his mind. “Everyone knew someone who knew someone who’d seen a witch, but it took forever to track anyone down. This’ll be a comparative piece of cake. Speaking of.”

He slips around Nicky and heads to the kitchen, really just the back half of the living room with a few cabinets working as a glorified partition, and deposits both bag and suitcase on the only clean countertop. 

“Dinner?” Nicky asks, looking every bit the starving artist he is. 

“Of course! Can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Nicky watches as more food than he’d seen in a week comes tumbling out- mostly stuff for sandwiches and snacks.

“Handhelds, so we can keep working. I’m no gourmet.” Sidney says, looking up and seeing the slightly curious expression on Nicky’s face. He rubs his hand through his hair, suddenly uncertain about everything. He’d jumped at the chance to stay with Nicky, to pool resources and save time. He really thought they’d clicked the few times they’d gotten together so far, and he was hoping he hadn't misread the situation. “Look, if you don’t like it, you can get groceries next time. I mean, it’s not much but-”

“No, it’s more than fine,” Nicky says, face breaking out in that loose grin Sidney’s much more accustomed to seeing. “What’s in the suitcase?”

Sidney smiles back. “The rest of the essentials.” He’s got a few bottles- scotch, whiskey, and bourbon, wrapped up around a pair of shirts. “Well, I’m unpacked. Where’s your typewriter?”

“Uh, over there,” Nicky jerks his thumb behind him, towards the bedroom. The front room is so cramped with the kitchen that he keeps most of his personal items-typewriter, his phonograph, his bongos, and a small radio that can pick up stations as far as Chicago with the right spell- in the bedroom. It’s also small, but he’s used to it. 

He only has one bed, and they haven’t really talked about what the sleeping situation will be. They also haven’t talked about how they kissed last night, or earlier that day at lunch, or that they've known each other for a day and they're already living together. He figures Sidney will bring it up sooner or later. There's unconventional, which Sidney definitely is, but moving in with a warlock after three conversations is something else entirely. 

But Sidney takes it all in stride, slipping off his overcoat and suit jacket and letting both drop to the ground, before sitting down behind the messy desk and giving the keys a few cursory taps. “Not bad,” he assesses, putting in a blank sheet and typing out a few notes on what they’ve covered so far. 

Nicky shrugs and stays in the kitchen, putting away the food and booze, and piling up the shirts to move into the bedroom later. He pours drinks and fixes sandwiches for the two of them, and balances the whole thing on his outstretched arms, having learned a few things picking spare shifts waiting tables at the Zodiac- not his proudest moment, but he’s lost the ability to feel shame for the things he does for money. 

Sidney doesn’t look up at first, so focused on his work. “Ah, dammit, the shoes,” he mutters, after glancing just far enough to see Nicky’s bare feet. “Sorry, I forgot about the barefoot thing. Hope I didn’t mess up your floor.” He finally looks up to see Nicky smirking at him. He looks around, as if finally taking in just how unglamorous his new home is. “Hmm, guess not.”

Dishes balanced and accounted for, he sits in the armchair opposite the desk and eats like there’s no tomorrow. Sidney picks up the pace on the drinking side, and they while away a good hour, talking and laughing, work completely forgotten. 

Eventually they fall silent, both watching the snow fall. Nicky’s on a fourth-floor walkup, and the view more than makes up for it. It’s very cozy, especially once Nicky snaps his fingers to turn out the light. 

"You've got a nice place here, kid," Sidney says, his voice sounding distant in the dark. "Downright picturesque." 

“Think you’ll be happy here?” Nicky asks, a little self-consciously.

He’s surprised by a kiss on his forehead, Sidney’s moustache tickling just above his eyebrows. “I think we’ll have a great time. Say, where’s the bedroom?”


	2. Chapter 2

They both have a few things to get used to. 

That first morning, Nicky wakes up alone in bed, thoroughly confused. He finds Sidney on the kitchen floor, on his hands and knees digging through the small waste basket under the sink. Leaning on the doorframe and watching with a little worry, he’s almost afraid to ask. He settles for “Good morning,” voice rising with each syllable. 

Sidney jumps, knocking his head on the open silverware drawer. 

“I got you something,” he says, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder while rubbing the back of his head. “Last night, with the food. Just a little something, you know, to thank you for taking me in and all- is this everything? Could’ve sworn it was with-” 

He steps forward to offer to help, and his foot nudges something on the floor. Sidney’s overcoat. It’s sticking out of his front pocket, one of the nice holiday packages of cigarettes, the big one with 100 in a plain wooden box. “Is this it?”

Sidney turns, disheveled, up to his elbows in garbage, and with a fond expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s not much or anything but-”

He’s cut off by Nicky threading one hand in his unruly hair, carefully avoiding the growing lump, and tugging him up for a kiss. Sidney tugs right back, and Nicky melts into him, chasing the rush of Sidney's unique brand of exhilaration.

“Guess we should probably clean up?” Sidney asks when they finally pull apart, now both on the floor. Their knees bump companionably as they look around. 

“After breakfast?”

“You read my mind, kid.”

-

Sidney wakes up with a hangover more often than not, and it takes about a week before he realizes the drumming in his head was coming from Nicky and his bongos. It’s his turn to lean in the doorway, looking like he’d been hit by a freight train, holding onto the door frame for dear life. “If you’re trying to kill me, there has got to be a less painful way.”

“Your fault for shacking up with a musician,” Nicky says, not bothering to stop.

Unimpressed with the answer, Sidney pivots into the kitchen to pour himself a liquid breakfast. “Don’t the neighbors ever complain about your ungodly racket?”

“Nah, Gil charmed the place after I had some trouble with the landlady. It’s more or less soundproof.” He looks up then, watching Sidney's face shift from a grimace to pure curiosity. 

“When you say more or less-” he starts slowly.

“Definitely more.”

-

A few weeks in and they’ve slipped into a comfortable routine. Their days are spent running around to the usual haunts, all the places Nicky knows or has heard of, and Sidney writes so many notes his pockets are always overflowing with scraps of paper.

In the evenings, they head over the Zodiac. Sidney observes the crowd during Nicky’s set, and during his breaks they talk, or interview some of the regulars, on the down-low. Nicky’s not afraid of repercussions, but Sidney thinks they should keep the book talk quiet, just for now. He didn't like the idea of Nicky getting ostracized for helping him, and besides, he had a few tricks of his own to try out.

One night, Sidney sets the record for biggest bar tab, a cause for celebration on any occasion. Still flush with the advance money, he offers to buy anyone a drink in exchange for their best story. Not the most subtle tactic, but it seems to work. 

It’s easy to underestimate a drunk. Nicky himself had been guilty of it, not particularly impressed when he'd first met Sidney. But watching a few of the more discreet patrons go to the bar, listen to the bartender whisper in their ear, and wave to the slightly deranged looking gentleman in the corner, well, Nicky knew how to appreciate a good hustle when he saw it. 

"People talk to drunks," Sidney said as they staggered up the stairs after a long night's work. “Which is funny, ‘cause drunks like to talk. You tell all your problems to a guy, and he could shout it on street corners for all you care, ‘cause no one’s going to listen to him.”

“I’m listening,” Nicky counters, calling over his shoulder as he waits for Sidney to make it up the last few steps. “And learning an awful lot.”

Sidney shakes his head. “Smart kid like you, I wouldn’t think you had anything left to learn.”Once firmly over the threshold, he crowds Nicky up against the wall. “Although I could show you a thing or two.” He swipes Nicky's hat, and sends it flying, hearing an ominous crash. 

Nicky instinctively waves his hand to turn on the light, but nothing happens. He tries again, panic slowly setting in. “What’s going on?”

Sidney chuckles, reaching behind Nicky for the lightswitch. “Maybe this’ll work, as Edison intended.” When nothing happened, he shrugged, drunk enough to find the scenario more amusing than anything. “Or not. Got any bright ideas, wiz kid?”

“Well I can’t use my magic if the bulb’s broken!” Nicky replies, a little hysterical. 

Sidney reaches for him in the dark, taking his cheek in his hand, slowly pulling him in for a calming kiss. “We don't need any light for this.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second half of this chapter is set after the later parts of the next chapter (if that makes any sense)

The first time it happens, they’re both unprepared for it. 

Sidney doesn’t know the specifics, but Gil somehow enchanted Nicky's curtains so that no matter how bright it gets outside, the bedroom stays nice and dark. 

"Birthday present," he shrugs when Sidney presses him for more details, and it gets added to the ever growing list of questions to ask the next time they see Gil. 

Between late nights researching at the Zodiac, and writing it all down when they came home, they rarely get to bed early, let alone fall asleep before dawn. 

So it was a terrible shock to find Gillian Holroyd in their bedroom one morning, about a few weeks into their cohabitation, opening those much-appreciated curtains from across the room with no more than a strong look. “Good morning,” she announced, much louder than necessary. 

Sidney’s got Nicky pushed up against the wall, half on top of him, and he has the decency to blush since Nicky can’t. They’re a clumsy mess of intertwined limbs, and it takes a good minute before they’re even halfway presentable. He also starts to suspect this isn’t the first time his sister’s caught him in bed with a man before, since no one could be that graceful climbing over another body while staying firmly beneath the sheets. 

“Sidney dear, I’m sorry to bother you. I need to speak to my brother,” Gil says, her voice turning to ice with the last few words. 

“No, it’s-” he trails off with a vague wave, still too tired to fully understand the situation. 

“Gil dear, would you mind?” Nicky asks, finally emerging on the other side of the bed in another display of agility.

She smirks back at them. “Sorry, I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Sidney, nice to see you.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says automatically, before frowning, feeling on the wrong side of the joke for once.

Alone together again, and Nicky laughs his nervous little chuckle as he gets dressed. Sidney watches him, lighting a cigarette as Nicky fumbles the buttons on his shirt, studiously avoiding looking back at him. His stubby fingers feel around for matches, having grown spoiled from Nicky’s magic. Those hands had all the spark he ever needed. 

“You think she knew about us before, or was this as much a surprise to her as she was to us?” 

“Gil always knows everything,” he says quietly, and a little sadly. As if he’s worried that Sidney will leave now that his family knows. As if he’s done this before, and it never ends well. 

Sidney kicks his leg out, brushing Nicky’s thigh. “Come on, you’re gonna need this more than I do.” He hands over the cigarette, a gentle smile on his face. “Good luck out there, and shout if you need help. Shout twice if it’s an emergency, I’m liable to doze off again.”

Nicky just stares at him, that incredulous smile slowly widening. He looks so good in the morning light that Sidney thinks they may have to start waking up early every now and then to take advantage of it. 

He reached out, tugging Nicky down by the collar to kiss him on the forehead. “Come on, go out there before she gets mad at the both of us.”

Nicky makes one last nervous sound before leaving, slipping through the open door. Sidney hears maybe five words before the door closes itself. Gil must be in a good mood since it didn’t slam shut, he thinks.

He grabs Nicky’s watch to check the time, wincing at the single digit hour, before getting dressed slowly, giving the siblings time to have their conversation or tear each other apart. They hadn’t seen much of Gil lately, since she started spending her evenings with Shep at more respectable places. Maybe that was why they'd been a bit more open about things, like holding hands over the table, or making out in the booths, or-

For a minute he’s worried she’s threatening to put the kibosh on the book, before shaking the idea out of his head. He’s basically in-laws with the publisher, he knows he’s safe. Well not exactly in-laws. He kills another few minutes trying to pinpoint exactly the relation before his slowly growing hangover puts an end to strenuous thought.

A sound of something shattering from the other room makes him revise his assessment on safety, and signals he’s needed elsewhere. He finds Nicky alone, staring intently at a broken record, the shards slowly moving towards a waiting dustpan. 

“Some people have no ear for music.”

Nicky snorts. “No ear for advice either. What a hypocrite. She-”

Sidney interrupts him with a wagging finger. “No serious talk on an empty stomach. Let me make you my famous pancakes, then tell me.”

Nicky smiles. He’s had them before, they’re famous for being stuck to the pan. Neither one of them can cook, but they both had voracious appetites and iron constitutions, and when Sidney’s in one of those generous moods, it’s impossible to refuse him. 

He finishes tidying up the mess and starts another record, idly wondering if he can talk Sidney into taking breakfast back to bed.

-

The next time, it’s not a shock at all. They’d left Shep at Bianca’s, and came right back home, talking the whole ride. They had no idea what was happening to the poor bastard, but they each had their theories. 

“In Mexico, I heard about this one procedure involving leeches.”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t work. It’s got to be a potion of some kind.”

“Would that be strong enough?”

“Maybe, if she used some of her parrot’s feathers.”

Sidney loved being able to talk shop like this. He hadn’t been welcomed into the fold as much in Mexico, and hearing about magic right from the source, and debating what was possible made him feel like he really knew his stuff. Nicky too seemed to be enjoying himself, overcoming his initial disappointment at not being able to witness the event. He always had a vivid imagination, and the possibilities with Shep’s condition were endless. 

It was late when they got in, but they were both still keyed up and a little breathless- Sidney still not fully used to the stairs. 

Nicky automatically went to the kitchen, to get Sidney a drink, but a hand on his waist stops him, steers him gently towards the bedroom.

They don’t talk about it. They don’t want to talk about it. They fall asleep, Nicky resting his head on Sidney’s chest, finding some comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

The next thing he knows, the room is far too bright, and Shep’s standing over on the other side of the room, looking wild-eyed and mortified, one hand raised as if to knock on the door. “I uh, sorry about the intrusion, boys."

They blink awake, momentarily fighting over the blanket before deciding it's easier to stay pressed up together. The events of the previous night come tumbling back, and Sidney sits upright, dragging Nicky along with him. "Is it done? How do you feel, old man?"

"Well I, say, maybe this isn't the time to-” He looks pale, but his eyes are clear and he sounds steady. 

"Did it work?" Nicky echoes, too impatient to pretend he ever cared about propriety. 

"Well- She said it won't be complete until I confront Gillian. But she made it so it can't be undone. Oh, and she said I might cause some of Gillian's old spells to lose power," he said slowly, trying to recall the exact words. "She described it like a magnet attracting steel filings." 

They both look at the open curtains and groan. "Guess I'm going to have to ask Gil to re-soundproof the joint. If she's still speaking to me, after this." Nicky frowns, looking up at Shep thoughtfully. "Are you going to see her right now? We can split a cab, let me find some pants-"

"No, no," he says emphatically, taking a step back. "I'm going to my office first. I need to hire some movers, and try to find a new place to live-"

"You can't leave yet, we need details, old boy." Even with the book officially canceled, Sidney still wants to learn all he can on the subject. Especially from a source so close to home. 

“Make yourself useful and put on some coffee,” Nicky pipes up. After Shep politely excuses himself, he nudges Sidney. “I figured Gil always called the shots, guess I was right.”

“He might still be in a daze,” Sidney notes, running his fingers through his hair, trying to turn into something slightly more presentable. He thinks they should give Shep a minute to collect his thoughts, and he signals to Nicky to take his time getting dressed. Nicky makes a face, but agrees, and hangs back a minute, laying on the bed and resting his folded hands on his stomach. He looks exactly like a petulant child pretending to be good, and Sidney has to force the grin from his face. 

Now appropriately solemn, he finds Shep in the kitchen, fiddling with the mugs as an excuse to avoid eye contact. 

“Sorry about waking you up,” Shep says, eyes firmly on the percolator as he rinses it out. "I figured you two would want to be the first to know."

"Nah, it's'alright," he replies, stifling a yawn and reaching for the closest cup. He takes his black, with a healthy slug of whiskey added. “Need something stronger?" he offers, waving the bottle towards Shep’s turned back. 

Shep frowns, checking his watch. “It’s seven thirty.”

“Yeah, but you had quite the night.” He finds a relatively clean mug drying by the sink and pours him a good amount, but Shep waves it off. 

“Yeah, tell us about it,” Nicky pipes up, coming in from the bedroom, shirt still unbuttoned. Sidney watches Shep, sees his eyes linger on the hickey blooming just below Nicky’s collar, can hear his mind slowly adding it up, imagining the scenarios. 

Shep takes the ignored drink, and tosses it back in one. 

Nicky rolls his eyes, but Sidney hands him his coffee to cut off whatever smart remark was coming. “Alright, now what happened last night?” he presses, wanting to get back on track. 

Shep recounts every gory detail, reticent at first but growing more open as he's pelted with questions on all sides. Nicky's particularly morbid about it, crowding Shep, unabashed with his invasive questions, and Sidney watches him, completely fascinated. He’s like a force of nature, a ball of pure energy when properly unleashed, his eyes lit up in wonder.

After about half an hour, Shep's hunched over the counter, drained, and they let him escape back to his office while they compare notes. Nicky’s learned far more than he ever wanted to about his sister’s love life, and the worst part is how tedious it all is. 

"Hard to believe I'm the one in the stable relationship," Nicky mutters, tapping a pencil against his chin. He hadn't meant to say that aloud, and he looks up hesitantly. 

Sidney smiles back at him, puffing out his chest. "Well, I am a catch." The pencil hits him on the cheek, and he staggers. "Careful now, I’m spilling coffee all over."


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly they started accumulating _things_. 

Queenie brought by some spare dishes, about a month after Sidney moved in. 

“It suddenly occurred to me that dear Nicky doesn’t think about such things, and well,” she trailed off, seeing nothing but glasses and mugs in their sink. “You boys do eat food on occasion, right?”

“Yeah, I've got a big appetite,” Sidney grunts from the bedroom, clicking away at the typewriter. He’d been on a roll, and politely excused himself from the conversation to continue working. One thing he was starting to appreciate about the magic scene was their lack of emphasis on manners. Of course any culture has their own customs and rules, but informality seemed to be the name of the game, and as a man who had a lifetime of being reprimanded for his nonconformity and obliviousness of social cues, it was a welcome relief. 

Nicky just rolls his eyes as he takes the stack of plates, clearing space for them on the counter. “We’ve been at the Zodiac most nights,” he explained, laughing a little nervously. “We eat there, or on the way home. We’re uh, not much for housekeeping.” 

Queenie reaches for him, squeezing his hand sympathetically. “I have a spellbook I was saving for Gillian, it’s got all sorts of spells for keeping things clean around the house. I’ll bring it by next time.”

There’s a loud ding as Sidney hits the end of a line, and rushes to get a fresh sheet of paper in. “Don’t finish that thought, I want to hear everything.”

-

Gil’s contribution was art. 

_Nicky, I can’t bear to think about you two staring at blank walls all day. Please enjoy them as much as I have. -G_

“What do you suppose that means?” Sidney asked, after reading the card aloud. 

Buried under a small mountain of old newspaper and wrapping material, Nicky popped his head out to answer. “I think it means that Shep’s out of the picture.” 

They’d known for about a week now, after the manuscript had been rejected. Nicky confessed that Gil had put a curse on their book, smothering it before it could even leave their shabby little nest. They’d commiserated, a real bender for the ages, and emerged the other side not really talking about what that meant for them now. The book had been the reason they’d shacked up together, and neither one was quite ready to ask the question that led to one of them leaving. 

An uneasy silence settled over them. Nicky submerged into the heavy packing case to hunt for more treasures, and Sidney watched him, as ever fascinated by his youthful exuberance. 

It took over an hour to get everything unearthed, and maybe twenty minutes to hastily clean up the mess. They kept a few of the smaller crates to hold Nicky’s growing record collection, and junked the rest. Sidney stepped out briefly to pick up sandwiches, cigarettes, and a bottle of scotch, and they spent a leisurely night in hanging up all of the masks and prints. 

“Can’t you just wave a finger and it’ll hang itself?” Sidney grumbled, reaching up to adjust one of the larger pieces.

Nicky laughed from the floor. “Not if I’m in charge of making sure they’re not crooked.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the authority on what’s straight.”

-

They were given a few cast-offs from Shep’s apartment after he and Gil reconciled and got married- a proper dining room table with matching chairs that now took up the entire living room area, and an actual dresser for them to use, instead of leaving shorts and socks folded on the closet floor. 

Between the gifts and the few things Nicky already owned, their home was starting to come together. One night, lying in bed and passing a cigarette back and forth, it suddenly occurs to Nicky. 

“Hey, you don’t mind- That is, is there anything you ever wanted around here?” He laughs as Sidney reaches for him. “No, I’m serious. I mean, furniture, or art or anything?”

“Nah,’ he says, shaking his head in an exaggerated fashion, hair falling into his eyes. They’re still looking for an all-night barber, because Sidney would single-handedly keep him in business. “No, I’m good. We have the picture, that’s all I need.”

Nicky props himself up on his elbows to look at it. Properly framed and sitting very respectfully on their one end table, next to the ashtray and a few empty beer bottles, it’s a simple 8x10 in black and white. It was taken at Gil and Shep’s wedding reception, one of the last shots before the photographer was sent packing and the real fun could begin. They’ve each got one arm around the other, both of their bow ties were undone, and they’d clearly hit the punch bowl harder than necessary. But the smile on Sidney’s face, as big and as genuine as if he’d been the one getting married, said more than a thousand words.


	5. Chapter 5

It was now firmly in springtime, and while the city wasn’t exactly fertile ground, it felt like everything was blooming. Flowerpots started peeking out from most windowsills and balconies, giving the air a fresher feeling. 

Nicky had never been much of a horticulturalist. Even at the herb shop, he was relegated to the cash register and maybe pushing a broom around now and then. He could never keep his hands still enough for the patient, and oftentimes unrewarding, work of tending to plants. But after receiving a bunch of Gil’s old books and thumbing through some of the more accessible ones, he starts to suspect it’s easier than it looks. 

He explains his plan to Gil one night at her shop, helping her close up in exchange for advice. She’s still thriving in newlywed mode, which disgusts him to his core, but he’d been running to his big sister for help for his whole life and he didn’t want to stop now. 

“So what do you think?” he asks, fiddling with some of her new glass trinkets. 

She arches one eyebrow. “I think this might be one of your better ideas, but if you break one more thing I’ll never let you back in.”

He looks around for Pyewacket, hoping for some male solidarity, but forgot the cat was upstairs, permanently confined to Queenie’s apartment now. “If you insist,” he sighs, more than a little dramatically, carefully returning the fragile figurine to its shelf. 

-

He drops by the store two days later, and there’s a jade plant sitting on the counter. Gil’s busy, helping some well-to-do types pick out some overpriced bric-a-brac, so he kills time browsing her new collection. He still doesn’t care for it. Her old stuff was so much more dynamic, and he’s very grateful to have received most of it, but it bothers him. Gil gave up so much for Shep, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. He glances down, seeing the plant brighten up everything around it, and he frowns. 

Meanwhile Gil’s finished earning her 40% markup, and she’s ready to once again devote far too much attention to helping her brother. 

“So, there’s the patient,” she smiles, only quirking half her mouth upwards in restrained amusement. Nicky was always the emotional one, and he’s glad that hasn’t changed, despite everything. “I can talk you through it, but it’s all up to you.”

-

Sidney’s been working on a biography of Bianca de Passe, spending more time at the Zodiac interviewing her, so Nicky finds time nearly every day to swing uptown and visit Gil’s shop without needing to make a rolodex of excuses. He works hard at learning water and sunlight charms, putting in more effort than he'd ever put towards anything in his life. Thankfully, it's an easy plant, not needing too much care or attention. 

“If only you could learn a thing or two from it,” Gil suggests one night, and Nicky glares at her, his free hand creeping towards an expensive looking display. 

“Careful now, you’re overwatering it,” she admonishes.

He jerks his hand back, accidentally spraying Gil in the process. He stammers out an apology, palms up in surrender. Even without her powers he’s still afraid of his sister, and he flees to the safety of the street, leaving Gil to clean up the mess.  
-

After three weeks of caring for the jade, they both decide he’s ready. It’s grown slowly but steadily, and shows no signs of ill care. Even Gil has to admit she’s impressed. 

“You’ve done an admirable job. If only all test subjects were so lucky.”

“I’m gonna miss the little guy,” Nicky says sadly. “What are you going to do with him?”

“ _She_ is going to Shep’s office. His desk gets more sunlight than you’d believe, and his secretary loves plants.” She sighs. “I wanted to give her to Queenie, but Pye would chew her up. Have you picked out the real plant yet?”

“Yeah, I know a guy through the herb store. He specializes in all sorts of cacti and he’s ordered a real cool one, all spikes and everything. It’s perfect.” His eyes light up as he talks, and Gil gives him one of her rare fond looks. 

“It sounds wonderful, and I’m glad I could help you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet my husband for lunch.”

She leans over the counter to straighten his bowtie while he makes a face. “Gil, please.”

She kisses him on the cheek before picking up the plant. “Now be good, and don’t scare away all my customers.”

He watches her step into a cab, before flipping over the closed sign, propping his feet on the counter, and picking up a magazine. 

-

It’s late by the time he really closes up the shop, and swings by the village to pick up the cactus. It looks as good as the picture, and he gets it wrapped up to keep it safe on the subway ride home. He sees other men on the train, carrying bouquets of flowers to take to their girlfriends or mistresses, and he starts to get nervous again. It’s one thing to live with a guy for five months, but giving him _flowers_ seems like a big step. He looks down at the package in his lap, second guessing himself the whole way back. 

Sidney’s waiting for him when he gets home, sitting at the table, surrounded by piles of crumpled up paper. He perks up seeing him, his whole body seeming to gain energy. He stands up and comes over to greet him properly, kissing him on the forehead. “Hey, what kept you? I’m getting nowhere with this draft. It’s not the same without bouncing ideas off you-”

“I got you something.” He says it without preamble, having forgotten half the speech he mentally composed on the stairs. His hand shakes a little as he hands it over.

Sidney turns it over in his hands. He’s curious but cautious, never quite sure what to expect with Nicky. He unfolds the paper slowly.

“I just thought maybe you’d want something to remind you of Mexico, since you've been away for so long. I knew a guy, it’s not a big deal. I learned a few spells too, how to take care of it and everything, all magic and no work at all.” It all comes out as a jumble, and Sidney takes a minute to parse the words. Worried by the pause, Nicky starts talking faster. “If you don’t like it, we can- I can get rid of it. It’s ok, it’s nothing-”

He’s stopped by Sidney taking his hand, and squeezing it softly. “I love it. It’s cute, but deadly. Just like you.” He holds up the cactus in his other hand, admiring it. “You know, I was down in Acapulco though. All city streets and sandy beaches. Nothing like this at all.”

Nicky falters. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“But then I never really met any witches until I came to New York either.” He angles the cactus away so he can pull Nicky in for a real kiss. Nicky pulls him back, towards the bedroom, and he carefully balances the cactus on the windowsill before tumbling down into their bed.


End file.
